Jewelled Dagger
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Threeshot. AU, mangaverse. Unfortunately, great minds think alike.
1. Body

**Author's Note: Okay, first I have to squee because this is my fiftieth FMA fic! 8D Okay, getting down to business. This story started very small, with just a tiny thought in the back of my head and a line from my fic "Brothers Fairy Tale": "As the elder brother plunged a jewelled dagger into his own heart, he saw to his amazement that his little brother did the same." That, coupled with a few vague ideas floating around in my brain, and a lengthy discussion with a friend, erupted into this story. This is a what-if AU story, and is mangaverse, just so you know. There will be spoilers for the entire series. The major inspiration that drove me to actually write this story out was Submersed's album In Due Time. They seemed to be singing about this very story. I hope you enjoy my fic, because I know I sure did!**

**Dedication: For DevLeigh, because without you this story would not exist.  
**

**Chapter One: Body**

_"Lift me up, my soul's so hollow."_

_- 'Hollow' by Submersed_

Edward Elric would look back on that day as the worst day of his life.

His teeth ground together against the pain, his left arm clutching the stump of his right, as his blurry vision slowly cleared. He was back in the basement study, he saw. It stank horribly in here – stank of blood, vomit, and dead flesh. He would hardly have been surprised to find he had fallen straight to hell.

Slowly, Ed's disconnected thoughts converged, reminding him of what was more important than anything else. "Al," he whispered hoarsely. His eyes strained through the steam that still clouded the room. There! A form rose from the midst of the steam. A human form. "Al," he murmured weakly in relief.

Alphonse Elric strode over to him, and he was relieved to see that his little brother seemed to be unhurt in any way. _It worked._ "You will die if you lose much more blood," Al said. "I must bandage your wounds."

Ed relaxed, letting the relief flow through him. He looked up at Al's face, and the faintest notion passed through his mind that something was not quite right. Before he could grasp this idea fully, however, he lost all consciousness.

* * *

The moment Ed opened his eyes, he heard a familiar feminine voice nearby.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Winry Rockbell cried, rushing to his side. "I was so worried!"

"What happened?" Ed asked groggily, wondering why his arm and leg were filled with a dull ache.

Winry's relieved expression immediately hardened. "That's what _I'd_ like to know! Al had to carry you here 'cause you passed out! What happened to your arm and leg?"

But Ed was hardly listening to her, for everything had suddenly come rushing back. "Al," he murmured, moving to push himself up. He suddenly realized his right arm was gone, and before he could adjust his weight to push himself up with one arm, Winry had shoved him back down.

"Just lie still," she said sternly, looking annoyed.

"Where's Al?" Ed demanded, not about to be deterred.

Winry hesitated, then said, "In the kitchen with Granny." She looked uncomfortable, then asked again, "Ed, what happened? Please tell me, just this once." Her large blue eyes searched his earnestly, adding a silent plea to the one she had voiced.

Ed studied her face and saw a strange discomfort there. He had known Winry for almost as long as he could remember, and was able to interpret her expressions very well. "What's wrong with Al?" he asked, suddenly desperate.

"What?" Winry said, trying to smile innocently and failing abysmally. "Who said anything was wrong?"

"Let me see him," Ed demanded, setting his jaw. "Bring him here, or I'm going out there to him."

"All right, fine!" Winry snapped. "Just stay put; don't be an idiot. I'll go get him."

Ed watched her leave, and listened to her footsteps receding. He realized that his palms (_No, I only have one palm now,_ he reminded himself) were sweaty and his heart was pounding. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but if Al was hurt in some way, it was his fault. This whole fiasco had been his idea in the first place, after all.

After a few more moments, two pairs of footsteps returned, gradually growing louder and louder. Ed watched the open door, watched as first Winry appeared in it, then Al. Al looked normal; there were no missing limbs or telltale bandages, not even a bloody lip or a black eye. Ed breathed a sigh of relief; Al had come out of this ordeal unscathed.

Al stood in the doorway, neither rushing over to inquire worriedly about Ed's health nor smiling sheepishly as if to say _I'm sorry you took the brunt of it all._ This struck Ed as a little odd. "Al?" he asked tentatively. "Are...Are you angry with me?"

"No," Al said dully.

No, not dully, Ed decided. Emotionlessly. There was no trace of anger or sadness in his voice. "Are...Are you okay, Al?"

Al looked straight at Ed at that. "That would depend on how you define 'okay,'" he said in that same strange, emotionless voice. "My body is completely unharmed. But to say that I am completely 'okay'...would be a lie. Do you not agree, Edward?"

Ed stared at Al, waiting to be told this was all a very bad joke. But Al just kept on looking at him with his gold eyes. His _empty_ gold eyes. And Ed began to scream.

* * *

When Ed woke to the fresh morning sunlight on his closed eyelids, he thought everything had just been a nightmare. The horrible transmutation, all that pain...and Al's terribly empty eyes. But when he moved to wipe the sleep from his eyes, he found that he couldn't move his right arm. Or, more accurately, he had no right arm to move. Ed covered his face with his left hand instead as despair washed through him.

"What have I done?" he groaned.

"You have performed human transmutation," said a chilling voice nearby. For one heart-stopping moment, Ed thought it was that horrible outline of whiteness that called itself Truth, but when he whipped his head around he saw that it was Al, sitting in a chair nearby. "You attempted to bring our mother back from the dead, and when you saw it had taken me as a passage fee, you tried to bring me back with your right arm."

"Yeah, I _know_ that," Ed said through gritted teeth. "It's just a rhetorical question. You know that."

"I do," Al said.

Ed stared at him in anguish. Al should have gotten angry, or defensive, or apologetic, or _something._ But he was just sitting there, looking blankly ahead, his hands resting on his knees. "What happened to you?" Ed finally asked.

"I was taken into the Doors of Truth as a passage fee," Al replied calmly – if it is possible to be calm without emotion. "You gave your right arm as the passage fee to reach me, but you were only able to take out my body."

Ed gasped and jerked into an almost-sitting position. "What?"

"To clarify, I no longer have my soul," Al replied.

Ed stared at his little brother for a moment, then fell back onto the pillow. "No soul...." he murmured, trying to wrap his mind around it. A passage from a reference book returned to him at that moment, and he slowly recited, "'A human is composed of body, mind, and soul.'"

"That is true," Al replied, even though the words hadn't exactly been directed at him. "The body and the soul are connected by the mind. The reason I am able to speak is because my mind is still connected to my body. It is also connected to my soul, though."

"Where _is_ your soul?" Ed asked, trying to imagine what a detached soul would look like.

"It is within the Doors of Truth."

Ed jerked upright again, ignoring the flash of pain as the stump of his leg protested his sudden movement. "We have to get it back!" he cried.

"That would be preferable." Seeing Ed's confused look, Al elaborated. "A body cannot live without a soul. The mind attracts both body and soul. It is only a matter of time before the strain becomes too great and my body joins my soul at last."

"You mean...you'll just disappear someday?" Ed asked in horror. "When? How much time do we have?"

Al was a stark contrast to his older brother, remaining completely calm in the face of this horrible truth. "There is no way to know. It could be ten years. It could be tomorrow."

The expressionless face of his brother was beginning to unnerve Ed. When he couldn't restrain himself any longer, he burst out, "Aren't you scared?"

Al's blank eyes met his. "I am unable to feel fear," he said matter-of-factly. "You should already have realized this, Edward."

Ed flinched to hear Al call him by name a second time. Ever since he could remember, Al had called him 'Brother.' He couldn't remember a single time when he had heard Al call him by his name, even when talking to someone else. It was always 'Brother' or 'my brother.' 'Edward' sounded strange, when spoken in Al's voice. "You know..." Ed said uncomfortably, looking into Al's blank eyes and then quickly looking away again. "You can...still call me Brother...if you want."

Al looked at him blankly. "Why?"

Ed stared disbelievingly into those empty golden eyes. That one little word seemed to have pierced right through his heart; he felt a stinging pain in his chest like a knife. After a moment, Ed realized his eyes were blurring with tears. One rolled down his cheek, and he turned his face away from his emotionless little brother as he began to cry harder and harder.

If anyone had looked in on the room, they would have been met with a very strange sight: Al, sitting calmly on a chair and staring blankly ahead; and Ed, sobbing into his pillow as if his heart would break.

* * *

By the time Winry and Granny Pinako came in to change his bandages, Ed had made up his mind. "Granny," he said firmly as she gathered up the bloody bandages. "I want you to give me automail. I'm going to need and arm and a leg for what I'm going to do."

Granny Pinako frowned, her long pipe drooping. "Ed, you're not still trying to-"

Ed quickly shook his head. "No. I want to become a State Alchemist." He ignored the gasps this announcement brought forth. "I'm going to get Al's soul back...if it's the last thing I do." He looked over at Al, who sat in the same chair, staring blankly back at him. Then he returned his gaze to Granny Pinako.

The little old woman clicked her tongue and pulled the pipe out of her mouth. "All right, but it'll take three years at least for you to recover and become coordinated enough to use automail like your original limbs."

Ed fell silent; he hadn't realized it would take so long. He glanced uneasily at Al, remembering what he had said about the uncertainty of his existence. Ed's hand clenched into a fist on what was left of his leg. "We may not have that long," he whispered. "I have to get it back as soon as possible." He firmed his resolve and looked up at Granny Pinako. "One year!"

Winry looked worried, but Granny Pinako just stared into Ed's hardened gold eyes for a while, until finally she smiled grimly and said, "I might as well warn you now, you'll be coughing up blood if you push yourself that hard. But I can see I can't do anything to stop you."

A fierce delight ripped through Ed's chest, and he turned to grin at Al. Then he saw his little brother's expressionless face, and the smile slipped away. As Winry and Granny Pinako left to begin preparations for the automail surgery, Ed clutched the sheets silently, his resolve hardening even further. He _had_ to get Al back to normal!

* * *

In the months that followed, Ed experienced pain such as he had never even imagined. Yet all through his feverish and sleepless nights, all through his pain-ridden, frustrating days, he continued to push himself onward. For every day, he saw Al's blank eyes, his expressionless face, and he was reminded of the soul that was out there somewhere.

As the months dragged on, Ed slowly became used to Al's lack of emotion, as did Winry and Granny Pinako. But he never fully adjusted; he was always aware that this was not how things were supposed to be. Al never smiled at him anymore, never spoke encouraging or soothing words to him. There was nothing in there of the Al he had known from birth.

One day, after the promised year was almost up, Ed slowly walked down the grassy hill to the river. His metal limbs were about as coordinated as he thought they could get, though he had come to the realization that fine motor skills would have to be restricted to his left hand. He had learned to write and use eating utensils with his left hand, and was slowly getting used to the constant weight of two metal limbs. In all the fuss and bother, he had allowed his hair to grow long, and had taken to braiding it to keep it out of his face.

When Ed crested the hill, he saw Al sitting by the riverside. As the months had progressed and Ed continued to spend the majority of his time with his little brother, Ed had come to the surprising conclusion that there was still a little bit of Al inside that body. His habits were the same, and he still petted Winry's dog, Den, quite a bit. He had grown out his hair just like Ed's, keeping it in a ponytail most of the time; Ed knew that Al would have done that if he was still whole. Al also seemed to wander down to the river quite a bit, just as he had before. He never looked sad or contemplative while he sat there, but Ed sometimes wondered whether he felt closer to his soul when he sat there.

"Are you fully healed, Edward?" Al asked tonelessly.

Ed had gotten somewhat used to the way Al addressed him, but it still sent a pang through him when he heard it. "Yeah," he said sadly, smiling a little as he looked down at his brother. He had also grown somewhat used to the unresponsiveness of his little brother. He knew he would never receive a smile in return, but he forced himself to smile anyway. He had to treat Al just the same as always. This was his little brother, after all – even without a soul.

Ed sat down next to Al and for a while, the two of them sat there quietly. It almost felt like it had before all these terrible things had happened, and Ed pretended that nothing had changed. He pretended that the silence between them was congenial, that Al had just made a joke, that they had just finished laughing and now were sitting in peaceful silence. A quiet smile found its way onto Ed's face.

"Edward?" Al asked, shattering the fragile image. "Why are you smiling?"

The smile instantly evaporated and Ed sighed, facing reality again. "I was...just remembering. Remembering how things used to be." They were silent again for a while, and Ed felt a question burning against his lips. He tried to ask it, but he was too afraid of what the answer was. He didn't think he could stand it if Al said....

"Come on, Al," Ed said hurriedly, standing up. "Let's go home. We're going to be leaving bright and early tomorrow morning."

* * *

On the train to Central City, Ed tried to run through all the things he had to keep in mind while taking the State Alchemist Certification Exam. He rehearsed his story again and again ("I lost my limbs in the Eastern Border War"), and his reasons for wanting to become a State Alchemist in the first place ("I promised my only remaining family member that I would"). He was still very nervous, though he tried not to show it. If the military discovered he had performed human transmutation, if they found out his brother had lost his soul...there was no telling what would happen.

"I have been thinking, Edward," Al suddenly said in his usual toneless voice, breaking into Ed's thoughts. "I will become a State Alchemist as well."

"Why do you want to do that?" Ed asked in surprise. "Only one of us has to become a dog of the military."

"You wish to bring my soul back, do you not?" Al asked simply. "In a similar manner, I intend to give you back your arm and leg."

"Al..." Ed murmured, leaning forward and looking deep into those empty golden eyes. "You want that? You...have desires?"

"I do not," Al replied blandly. "That is impossible without a soul. But I can remember what I thought and felt when I had my soul, and I know that I would want to see your limbs restored, Edward."

Ed leaned back, trying to wrap his mind around what Al had said. He didn't _want,_ but he knew he _would_ want.... "That must be so confusing," Ed said, putting a hand to his forehead.

"What must?"

"Trying to figure out what you _would_ want if you had a soul."

"I can understand why you would think that," Al said, which was about as close as he seemed able to come to agreeing. "But there is one thing I hardly need to think about to decide: If I had a soul, I would want to have my soul back, so that I could be like you, Edward."

Ed looked at Al, pained by these words – and also confused by their logic. After a moment, he inexplicably started to chuckle.

Al did not look confused when he asked, "What do you find humorous?"

But Ed couldn't answer; he shook his head and tried to suppress his laughter. He barely even knew why he was laughing himself. All he knew was that Al's words had struck some ironic sense of humor deep inside him. And as tears began to leak out of his eyes (though whether they came from laughing too hard or not, he never knew), he realized that, more than anything else, he wished he could just have a good laugh with Al again.

* * *

"Well, congratulations," Colonel Mustang said with a smirk as he handed a document to Ed. "You're officially a dog of the military now."

Ed took the document with a grin and looked down. "'Full Metal?'"

"That's the second name the Fuhrer gave you," Mustang explained, sitting down comfortably behind his desk. "Quite ironic, wouldn't you say?"

Ed grinned even wider. "Quite a mouthful," he said, slapping the document down on the desk. "I'll take it!" He turned to share a grin with Al, then remembered he would find no answering smile. With the discipline he had developed over the last year, however, he managed to keep the smile in place even as Al stared blankly back at him.

When Ed turned back to Mustang, he could see the tail end of the odd look he had been giving Al. Ed immediately frowned and snapped, "You got a problem, Mustang?"

"What?" Mustang said hastily, his face clearing innocently. After a few moments under Ed's glare, however, he sighed and glanced at Al again. "It was a wise choice to not let him take the Exam. He would never have passed the psychological exam; a lot of nasty questions could have been asked. He's...not normal, and it shows."

Ed furiously slammed his fists onto the desk and shouted, "Stop talking about him like he's not here! He can't help the way he is! It's not his fault; it's-" His voice caught in his throat, and he bowed his head over his fists, desperately trying to master himself. Desperation and guilt spiraled upwards through him, threatening to overtake him completely. _It's all my fault,_ he said to himself over and over.

Gradually, Ed became aware that Mustang had risen from his chair and walked around his desk to stand right beside him. "I'm sorry," he said softly, all hint of mockery gone. "I guess...I really don't understand at all."

When Ed felt the Colonel's hand on his shoulder, he immediately jerked away. Without speaking, he grabbed Al's hand and marched out of the office. No, Colonel Mustang didn't understand. All of this was his, Ed's, fault. And he was the only one who could make things right again.


	2. Mind

**Author's Note: In the official translation of the manga, the three parts that make up a human are "body, spirit, and soul". I've always been confused over the difference between a spirit and a soul, so I much prefer the way the scanlation I read put it: "body, mind, and soul". Thus, I use the term "mind" in this story rather than "spirit", because I think it gets closer to the point and is easier to grasp.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one as well!  
**

**Chapter Two: Mind**

_"I wonder what's in your mind behind those eyes I see."_

_- 'Wonder' by Submersed_

The months passed and dragged on into years, and Edward Elric, the Full Metal Alchemist, won renown for his exploits. He was sent on missions several times, but mostly he was allowed to carry on with his search for the Philosopher's Stone, the legendary alchemic amplifier. Ed suspected Colonel Mustang did not assign him many missions because he sympathized with their cause. He was, after all, the one who had suggested becoming a State Alchemist in the first place, and he kept the secret of their human transmutation.

Ed hated to admit it, but as the years rolled by he gradually grew used to his new little brother. The spark of his soul was gone, but it was still Al, and Ed didn't have to remind himself of this quite as often any more. He no longer flinched when Al called him 'Edward,' and he grew used to smiling at his unresponsive brother. He was determined to treat Al just the same as ever, and after five years spent day in and day out with Al, he was a pro at it.

One thing Ed was grateful for was that, while Al had no soul, his mind was completely unimpaired. Al was still able to study alchemy; he still saw and pointed out things Ed would never have noticed, and at times the two of them had conversations that to an outsider would have seemed strange: one arguing heatedly, the other replying in a bland monotone.

And whenever Ed realized he had grown accustomed to this, he would throw himself into his research with greater devotion than before.

Al fought at Ed's side with just as much fervor as ever. Once, Ed asked him why he did this. "It is in my best interests to help you," Al replied. "The Philosopher's Stone is the closest guarantee we can get that I will be reunited with my soul, and you are searching for the Philosopher's Stone. It follows logically that I will help you – and that includes fighting alongside you."

Ed nodded. "That makes sense," he said, but he couldn't help his heart sinking a little in disappointment. Al had become so _logical._ That wasn't the way Al was supposed to be.

Al watched him for a while before he said, "Edward. I know that you want me to say I do this because I care about you and want to be helpful, but you must realize this is impossible. I cannot feel these things."

"I know," Ed said softly. _But that doesn't mean I have to like it._

_

* * *

_

At times, Ed thought their situation was extremely unfair. While he worried and fretted over Al's safety and well-being, Al never worried about him. When Scar, the serial killer who targeted State Alchemists, cornered them, a sudden fear overwhelmed Ed's heart. Scar was so much more powerful than either of them. As if to demonstrate this, Scar slammed his right hand down and exploded the ground Al stood on. Al let out no cry of surprise or pain as he flew several feet through the air, but Ed screamed after him, "Al!"

While Ed's attention was elsewhere, Scar rushed up to him, grabbed his automail arm, and exploded it into a thousand tiny pieces. Ed's eyes widened in fear as he gazed up at the menacing Ishbalite and felt his arm shatter. He fell backwards, paralyzed with fear, as he realized that the only hope he had was now in a thousand pieces with his arm. "Run, Al!" he yelled as Scar slowly advanced.

"I cannot," the dull voice called from several feet away. Al was sitting calmly in the rubble of the street. "My ankle is badly sprained."

Ed's breath quickened as Scar drew nearer and nearer. "Promise me...promise me you won't kill Al!" he cried desperately. He knew there was next to no chance that Al would ever regain his soul if he died, but what could he do? There was no way he would ever let his little brother be killed!

"I give you my word," Scar replied in his deep, accented voice. "I will not kill your little brother." He reached out his hand, prepared to lay it on top of Ed's head. And Ed looked up at Scar, realizing just how vulnerable he was.

Later, after the military had arrived just in the nick of time and chased Scar elsewhere, Ed sat next to his brother on the stones of the street. "If I had my soul," Al said, "I would reprimand you for throwing your life away for my sake."

"Sorry," Ed said. "I won't let it happen again."

"I must confess that I do not understand," Al continued. "Why were you prepared to let Scar kill you, Edward?"

Ed examined Al's expressionless face for several long moments. He knew Al was incapable of humor or even lies, so he knew he was being honest. Still, it was hard to accept this question. "Do you...need a soul to understand that?"

"Apparently."

* * *

It was in the aftermath of Scar's attack, while waiting for Winry and Granny Pinako to complete his automail arm, that Ed decided to ask the question. All through the measurements, all through the evening meal, all through the ascent to the second floor (which he dragged out as long as possible), he rehearsed just what he would say, just how he would phrase it. He steeled himself as he crossed the room to where Al sat on one of the beds in their room, looking blankly out the window. He sat down across from Al, summoned up all his courage, and began. "Al?"

"Yes?"

"There's...something I've been meaning to ask you for a long time, but...well...I was scared to."

"That is illogical. There is nothing to be feared from a simple question."

"It's...your answer I'm afraid of." Then Ed met Al's eyes, and all the resolution he had been building up instantly fell away. "Um...never mind," he said quickly, turning away. And a part of him quailed more than ever as he thought that the _real_ Al would have demanded to know what was troubling him.

The unasked question weighed heavier and heavier in the days that followed, as he received new automail, as the two of them left for Central again, as they investigated the information Doctor Marcoh had given them. It was like a rock in his stomach, all through their escapade in the 5th Laboratory, and the time spent recovering in the hospital afterward. Finally, on the third day of their stay in the hospital, he made up his mind to ask again.

"Does it hurt much, Al?" he asked.

Al, who lay motionless in his hospital bed several feet away from his older brother, replied, "It is somewhat painful, yes. However, I know it will heal shortly."

"Yeah," Ed said softly. He took a deep breath, then plunged into the question, "Al, there's something I've been meaning to ask you for a long time, but I was scared of what you'd say. Well...the question is.... Do you still love me?" Ed cringed inwardly, not daring to look at Al, as the silence stretched on and on.

Just when Ed thought he wasn't going to say anything, Al slowly said, "A body cannot love on its own. If that is what you mean, then you know that I cannot love you. However...I know my soul, as do you. You know that I love you. To be more precise, we both know that my soul would love you if it were here now. And if you know that...you had no reason to ask in the first place."

The immense weight in Ed's heart lifted, and he grinned at the ceiling. "Yeah...I guess you're right." It was stupid, really, to even imagine that Al would ever stop loving him. They were brothers, weren't they? And Al was just like that anyway. It was just a pity that Al couldn't be there to say it himself.

* * *

Ed wondered from time to time whether he became more emotional to make up for Al's lack of emotion. He laughed harder, yelled louder, and cried more than he had before this whole thing started. The others, he supposed, thought he had always been like this, and in a way, they were right. But he could never shake off the feeling that he was venting some of Al's emotions besides his own.

It was strange, but every so often, when they had run into a rut with their research, he would feel an inordinate amount of despair. When they had decoded Doctor Marcoh's research and discovered that the Philosopher's Stone's main component was human lives, Ed's mind darkened till he could hardly think anymore. He sat at the table in their private room in the Central Library, head in hands, and grappled with his emotions.

Rage and revulsion ripped through him at the thought of condensing human lives into a stone, and at the same time the heaviest sorrow he had ever felt seemed to weigh him down. He felt as though he was in a deep, dark pit with no escape and no one to reach down and pull him up. He breathed raggedly, clutching his face with both hands, certain he would vomit, or cry, or maybe even faint.

Yet he did none of these things, and after what seemed a long time he looked over at Al – only to find the boy sitting perfectly calm across from him, his face completely unperturbed. And before he could even think or try to restrain himself, Ed launched himself forward and punched Al in the face.

In the wake of this blow, amidst the profuse apologies and the guilt sweeping through him, Ed wondered what had possessed him to do such a thing. It had almost felt as though someone else, a frustrated young boy, was lashing out inside him, bending Ed's body to his will. But then Ed pushed such a ludicrous idea aside. He had punched Al because he hated seeing no expression on that face when he was feeling such a multitude of emotions himself.

And the guilt swamped him even more than before, and he wondered what it would be like to die...to kill himself...to rid the world of scum such as he.

Then he glanced across the room at Al calmly sorting through their papers, and knew he could never do such a thing.

* * *

What Ed hated more than anything else – more than being called short, more than smiling at an unresponsive Al – was having to explain the situation to other people. First it was Mustang, demanding with raised voice what they had done. Al had explained that time, as Ed was still steeped in despair and couldn't find the right words.

But he had to explain to others. He had to explain to Maes Hughes, who was filled with fatherly concern for the blank-faced boy. He had to explain to his over-inquisitive bodyguard, Maria Ross, whose already pale face whitened even further. He had to explain to his former alchemy master Izumi Curtis, who went into a towering rage and yelled at both of them for almost fifteen minutes straight. He had to explain to Brigadier General Armstrong up north, who demanded information at sword-point. He had to explain to Mei Chan, who immediately overflowed with pity for Al's plight. He had to explain to Ling Yao why he and his bodyguards could never sense him as they could others.

It was always the same. First, they would pay attention mainly to Ed, as he did most of the talking. Then Al would say something in that dead voice of his, and a strange look would enter the person's eyes. They wouldn't mention it, but it would return every time they saw or heard Al. Finally, when they apparently could stand it no longer, they would confront Ed in private. Their face would always be serious – sometimes angry, sometimes concerned – as they said, "Ed...what's wrong with your brother? There's something...odd about him."

Ed supposed he should have gotten used to hearing this and explaining, but he flared up every time anyway. He would first snap, "There's nothing wrong with him! It's not his fault; don't you dare blame him!" When he saw the genuine concern in their eyes, however, he would sigh and explain the whole thing to them – how the Doors of Truth had taken Al, how he had sacrificed his arm to bring Al back, how he had discovered later that he had only brought Al's body back and not his soul. At this part of the story, the other person would invariably gasp. Everything would fit into their mind, everything would make sense. And Ed would wonder how any of this lunacy could ever make sense.

But what surprised Ed every time was that each one of these people he told the story to wouldn't reject the two of them because of this knowledge. To Ed's astonishment, the next time they set eyes on Al, that strange look would be gone from their eyes and they would treat him as they treated any other teenage boy. They would help the brothers in their own way, and if Ed ever asked them why, they would say, "I just want to see you and your brother returned to normal."

Once, Ed confided in Al his astonishment at this. Al looked at him silently for a few moments, then said blandly, "If I had a soul, I would be happy to hear that."

* * *

It was a very lonely business, searching for some way to restore Al's soul to him. True, Al never left his side. Al was the constant in Ed's ever-changing life. When others left, when others ignored him, when others disregarded him as merely an insolent child...Al remained.

Still, this wasn't quite as encouraging as it might have been. True, Al was always with him. But Al could never _really_ be the companion he once was. He was an immense help – taking part of the burden of researching onto himself, fighting enemies at Ed's side, speaking up when Ed began to push himself so hard he neglected food and sleep. His mind was as brilliant as ever, but that was just the thing.

All he had left was his mind.

Sometimes (and he never dared tell anyone), Ed just wanted Al to comfort him. He wanted to hear the voice that always spoke so blandly soften into the soothing tones of his memories. He wanted to hear Al scold him sternly for losing his temper. He wanted to hear one of those corny jokes Al used to tell when they were small. He longed to hear Al laugh, to see him smile.

Often, Ed's sleep was plagued with nightmares, and many nights he would wake up shivering with fear or trying desperately to hold back tears. The few times Al woke up to see him like this, he would just sit there, watching his older brother trembling in the darkness. Ed would stare into those empty eyes, stricken. Al was supposed to rush to his side, ask what was wrong, offer some sort of comfort! Wasn't he?

All Ed wanted was for Al to put a gentle hand on his shoulder and whisper to him that it was just a bad dream, nothing to worry about. He could settle for just a look of concern once in a while....

But no. Of course not. All that was left inside Al was the logic of his mind, and logic has no place for sympathy.


	3. Soul

**Author's Note: Here we go, the final chapter! This chapter contains some of my ideas of how the manga could end. I wrote this about a year ago, so obviously some things would be different (since I didn't know of some of the latest developments). Also, the stuff about Father disabling alchemy is kind of weird, since I didn't really understand what it meant at the time. (Not that I do now, either...) This is also the part most based on the ending of my "Brothers Fairy Tale". Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! This story was a lot of fun.**

**Chapter Three: Soul**

_"With your love you broke the chains that bound me."_

_- 'We All Make Mistakes' by Submersed_

Ed looked around at their small squad of men – and women, for there were a few of them as well. Mustang, who was heading this operation, squatted off to the side with Fury, conversing with Havoc over the radio. Falman stood nearby, listening to Breda muttering about how he wished he had brought a sandwich. Hawkeye sat next to Mustang, calmly inspecting her guns one final time. Brigadier General Armstrong sat across from her, surrounded by a select few of her subordinates, who stood silently as she sharpened her sword. Major Armstrong, flanked by two of his subordinates, flexed his fingers in their spiked gloves. At one end of the alleyway, Izumi stood with Ling (freed from his bondage to Greed at last) and his two bodyguards (one of which now sported an automail arm). Little Mei sat on the ground at the other end of the alley, hugging herself and looking as though she might be sick. She huddled closer to Scar, who frowned contemplatively up at the sky. Winry, Marcoh, and the doctor from Briggs crouched in a huddle, assessing their supplies. Ed stood close enough to hear Winry's voice worrying that they didn't have enough antiseptic.

Little shivers of dread kept on creeping down Ed's spine, and he hugged his arms to his chest like Mei. He chided himself; now was not the time to get cold feet. He had never hesitated to attack before, never doubted that he would prevail. But this enemy was so different from any other he had ever faced before. Could they defeat him, even with so many skilled people?

Then Ed glanced to his side and saw Al standing next to him, staring blankly ahead and holding his arms limply by his sides, and the shivers disappeared. He couldn't stop to worry about the future. He had to keep moving forward...for Al.

"All right," Mustang said, straightening up from the radio, which Fury hastened to dismantle. Everyone in the alley stood up and gathered their weapons and equipment about them, all eyes turning to their leader. "Ready?" Mustang softly asked them all, and everyone nodded. "Then let's move out."

They assembled themselves as they had carefully planned out beforehand, and cautiously squeezed into the nondescript entrance, making sure their weapons were at the ready. Ed and Al were towards the front, Ed poised to clap at the slightest disturbance.

But there _was_ no disturbance as they descended deeper and deeper underneath the city. Those who had been down here before wondered at the absence of the chimera guards that had been packed into these tunnels. But they continued onward, unchallenged in the increasingly ominous silence. No one spoke for fear of giving themselves away. Finally, they reached the great doors. Mustang paused, glancing over his shoulder to be sure they were all assembled, then threw the doors open.

'All hell broke loose' would be too cliche to describe what happened next.

If any of them had wondered where the small army of chimeras had gone, they wondered no more. Chimeras ran towards them, and if they had not been prepared, they would have been trampled. For a few minutes, there was barely enough time to draw breath, as they all pushed their way into the room, killing chimeras as they went. Spurts of gunfire, flashes of fire, clashes of swords, explosions of flesh and blood.... Ed danced in and out through the chimeras, slicing and jabbing them to pieces with his sharpened automail arm. Al was close behind him, fighting with the spear he had transmuted from the floor. As Ed pressed on, he passed his companions from time to time – now Scar, brandishing his right arm; now Hawkeye, firing both pistols in quick succession; now Ling, his sword flashing almost too fast to see. When the last chimera finally fell twitching to the floor, they raised their eyes to the rest of the room.

Three of the Homunculi had been vanquished, but that still left four standing there – and Ed realized that the three they had already defeated were perhaps the easiest ones to defeat. There was still Sloth, Gluttony (whom Father had brought back), Wrath, and Pride. The humans split into four groups, as they had planned out beforehand, but they hesitated to launch into an attack.

The man who sat on a throne-like chair, wreathed in shadows, heaved a sigh. "And several of you were to be human sacrifices," he said in a casually disappointed voice. "All you had to do was obey, and none of you would have to die. But humans are always like that, I suppose."

And then the real battle began. There was no room in Ed's mind to register the yells, the grunts, the small explosions, the sound of gunfire and of swordplay. It took all of his concentration and skill just to stay alive. Even five-on-one, the Homunculi still seemed to have the upper hand.

After what seemed an eternity of ducking, dodging, clapping, and stabbing, Ed realized that there were more people fighting Wrath than before. Breaking apart from the fighting, he quickly cast a glance around the room and saw that Gluttony had been defeated. Now ten people were fighting Wrath, and he was regenerating much more often now. _Good,_ Ed thought briefly before plunging back into the fray. _Using up his Stone._ After a few more minutes, Ling plunged his sword into Wrath's chest, and Wrath could no longer regenerate. He fell to the floor, dead at last.

An almighty explosion shook the entire room; looking around wildly, Ed saw that it was Sloth, now lying in a thousand pieces that slowly disintegrated. He looked over Brigadier General Armstrong's shoulder and saw Mustang snapping his fingers as fast as possible, sending flames roaring towards Pride. Ed wondered for a split second whether he should go over and help, but even as he watched Lieutenant Hawkeye pulled a pistol from her holster and shot the little boy through his forehead.

For a stunned moment, everyone froze. Then Pride disintegrated as well, and the room was filled with a ringing silence. As one, all of the humans turned, panting, to face the man who until now had sat in his throne, watching the battle. Now, Father slowly stood, the many tubes attached to him falling to the ground. He slowly descended the steps to their level. Until then, his face had remained in shadows, but now that he came into the light it was thrown into sharp relief.

Ed looked up into the face he had encountered once before, and this time he was filled with terror. Last time, Father's expression had been slightly odd but fairly casual. Now, his eyes fairly sparked with anger, his mouth turned down into a displeased frown. "So..." he said softly, but everyone winced; the cold fury in his voice had the power of a thousand screams. "Insects have stings. But...this insurrection is at an end. I will crush you." So saying, he slammed his foot onto the ground.

Ed thought he knew what Father had done, but he clapped his hands and tried to transmute the floor just to be sure. When nothing happened, he was sure of it. Father had disabled alchemy again, through whatever process he had used before.

Then, without so much as twitching an eyelid, Father made the ground and walls explode in spikes. Ed leapt aside just in time as one erupted right where he had been standing. The others had also jumped out of the way, though one of the Briggs soldiers hadn't been quick enough, and became impaled on one of the spikes. Ed had expected Father to continue the attack, but Father had stopped, staring straight ahead.

Ed whipped around and saw a man standing in the doorway to this underground chamber, framed by the clouds of dust that drifted through the air. He looked exactly like Father, if perhaps a bit younger. Ed's eyes widened and an involuntary gasp left him. _But...I thought Hohenheim wasn't going to...._

Hohenheim calmly strode into the room, heading straight for Father. "Homunculus," he said mildly, as if remarking on the weather, "it is you who will be crushed, for you have always – _always –_ underestimated the power of a few insignificant humans."

Father laughed, a cold laugh that send shivers down Ed's spine. "What are you going to do, van Hohenheim? Kill me?"

"No." And before anyone even realized he had done so, Hohenheim charged forward at a sudden run, his hands outstretched. When his hands came into contact with Father, the blinding light of the strongest transmutation Ed had ever seen shone forth, brighter even than when he and Al had attempted to bring their mother back.

Ed threw up his hands to shield his eyes from the glare of the light, but it still shone through his eyelids. He could hear the fizz of electricity all through the transmutation; it was all he could hear. And just when he wondered when it would stop, the room grew silent and the light died away.

Slowly, cautiously, Ed lowered his arms. Where Father and Hohenheim had stood, there was a red stone about the size of his fist, rough and jagged at the edges. "Is that...?" he whispered. Then he realized what his father had done, what he had sacrificed for his sons. "You didn't have to do that, Hohenheim," he muttered, low enough that no one else could hear. His throat felt oddly constricted.

"We did it," Mustang said, his surprised voice breaking through the silence of the room. Then, as this knowledge hit everyone at the same time, they let up a cheer that died away into laughter. Several people started talking at once, and the doctors came forward to tend to the various wounds their small army had sustained.

_No,_ Ed said to himself, _Hohenheim did it._

"Well?" said a voice at Ed's side. He turned from watching Winry helping Hawkeye bandage her arm, and saw that Mustang now stood next to him. "Aren't you going to take it?"

Ed turned back to look at the Philosopher's Stone, understanding what Mustang meant. He strode over to it, bent down, and picked it up. It was strangely heavy for such a small rock, as though the souls inside it were weighing it down. One of those thousands of souls in there was Hohenheim. And when the Stone was used, eventually that one soul would find peace at last.

Trying to swallow past the ever-growing lump in his throat, Ed closed his hand around the Stone and turned to Al. As ever, Al stood with both arms hanging limply at his sides, staring blankly ahead. He had helped in the battle, but he had been the only one of their number not to cheer when their enemies were defeated. Ed's heart beat faster, realizing just how close they were to their goal. After all these years of searching and fruitless efforts, they had won. He held the Philosopher's Stone in his hand. All he had to do was clap and press his hands against Al, and everything could be made right again.

Ed's eyes moved from Al to Mustang, who was watching him with a small smile, and on to all the others. Some were nursing wounds, others chattering happily in the relief that it was finally over. There was Ling, complaining about how hungry he was, and next to him Ran Fan, whose automail arm had been severely damaged. On the other side of the room, Mei was chatting cheerfully with Marcoh, who was seeing to a gash in her leg. Close by, Fury was saying that he should probably go and call Havoc, who would be worried about all of them.

And Ed found himself strangely torn when faced with all these people. After all, he wasn't the only one who needed the Philosopher's Stone. Both Ling and Mei needed the key to immortality to take back to their emperor, or their clans could very well die out altogether. Ran Fan's arm was missing just like his; she deserved a flesh one just as much as he did. And what about Havoc? Both of his legs had become paralyzed as the price for helping them fight the Homunculi. Didn't all of these people deserve the Stone every bit as much as he did?

But...if he gave the Stone to them, what would he do himself? How could he live with his little brother in such a state? Looking down at the Stone, Ed realized, _I'm so selfish. Look at me, saying I can't bring Al back without the Stone. But...I can. I've always been able to. I just kept on hoping that I wouldn't have to do that. But how could I give up anything less? How could I get Al back, without making the greatest sacrifice?_

"Edward?" Al's voice broke through his thoughts. "What are you thinking?"

Ed looked up at Al and made up his mind once and for all. Squaring his shoulders, he approached Mustang and pressed the Stone into his hand.

Mustang looked stunned as he stared down at the ruby-red Stone. "What?"

"You take it," Ed said. Every word cost him an immense effort, as though he was gouging out little pieces of his heart with his fingernails. "There should be enough power in there to heal Havoc and Ran Fan...and for Ling and Mei to take some back to Xing."

"But...your brother...."

Ed merely smiled, took Al's hand, and led him to an open space where they would have plenty of room.

"Full Metal!" Mustang called after him, but he did not turn back. "Edward!"

Ed was aware that the room had fallen silent, that everyone was watching, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing except Al. Al had to be whole again, no matter the cost. _After all,_ he reasoned with himself, _if I was only able to retrieve a part of Al with a part of myself...all of me should pay for all of him. Body, mind, and soul. It always comes down to Equivalent Trade, in the end._

Ed and Al stood facing each other, and Ed cherished those final moments as well as he could. He drank in Al's face, for he knew this would be the last time he would see it. He tried to memorize Al's chin, his nose, his ears...but then he discovered he already knew that face by heart. He knew those empty golden eyes so well after five years.

And as Ed stood there, looking at his little brother for the last time, he realized that it wasn't just the Al he had lost that he cared for. He also loved this other Al, with all of his lack of emotion and maddeningly logical thought processes. Some might ask how or why he loved such a miserable excuse for a human being. But that was just the thing. He needed no reason to love his little brother.

Ed took a deep breath. His heart was heavy, yet hopeful at the same time. He would never see Al again, but that would have to be the price to pay for such a wonderful thing as Al being whole again. Ed raised his hands, clapped them, and paused. "Goodbye," he whispered, and pressed his hands onto his own chest. He felt as though he had stabbed a jewelled dagger into his heart.

Ed closed his eyes against the blinding light of the transmutation and let his body be swept away. If he had kept them open, however, he would have seen Al clap his hands as well.

* * *

When Ed regained consciousness, he knew immediately that something had gone wrong. He should have died; he had, after all, offered up his body, mind, and soul to the Doors of Truth. And they had been accepted. He had seen the chilling grin on that vague outline of a human, had heard that voice that made no sound call him an eternal fool. So how could he still be here?

He was lying on something hard and flat; it felt like stone. He was lying on his right side, which was very cold. Slowly, however, a surprising sensation broke through his preoccupied thoughts: His right arm was cold. Ed cracked open one eye and found himself staring down at his own right arm. It was no longer made of shining steel. Now, it was made of flesh.

Gasping in astonishment, Ed pushed himself up to a kneeling position, staring at his own palms, which were now exactly the same except that his right arm was somewhat paler and much weaker than his left. Then he reached down and touched his left leg, astonished when he felt the touch with the nerves in his leg. Just to be sure, he pulled the leg of his trousers up a little.

There was no denying it. His body was restored.

Ed slowly got to his feet, wobbling a little before he found his balance. It was so strange to stand on two real legs again. Hesitantly, Ed took a step forward with his left leg. It wobbled dangerously, but he managed to keep his balance by putting most of his weight on his right leg.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to fall flat on his face, Ed looked around for Al. He didn't have to look far; Al lay only a few feet away. Ed stumbled over as quickly as he could, but he gave up after a few steps and dropped to his knees. He was about to crawl over when Al slowly began to pick himself up.

Ed held his breath as Al straightened into a sitting position. Had it worked? He hardly dared to ask the question to himself, for fear of the answer he would receive. When Al had straightened up fully, their eyes met. Ed couldn't tell whether those eyes were empty or not. "Al...?" he asked tentatively.

"Brother."

* * *

Al slowly opened his eyes and saw that he was back in the room where they had battled Father. The remains of the battle were strewn about the room. Al wondered how he had come back here, when by all rights he should have been consumed by the Doors of Truth.

Over the years, Al had slowly come to the conclusion that Ed would never use the Philosopher's Stone to restore them to normal. He was too kind-hearted; he was bound to end up either giving the Stone away or destroying it altogether. And once he had done that, his course of action would be plain: He would sacrifice himself to bring Al's soul back. Al had known this would not be ideal once his soul was returned to him, so he had formulated a plan he had thought to be foolproof. He would give himself up to the Doors of Truth. He would let himself be lost beyond all recall, and finally Ed would give up his fruitless quest. But...had something gone wrong? Had Al's perfect plan not worked? Worry settled in at this thought. What had happened? Was his brother lost? Had his brother's plan succeeded? _How could he ever have thought that I'd be happy without him?_ Al thought angrily, then caught his breath in astonishment.

Had he just been angry? Had he just worried? Was he surprised now? Al's breath quickened as he realized that he could _feel_ again. He could feel emotions. He had his soul again. Excitement mounted in him, and he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, savoring the emotions that coursed through him like new. It had been so long since he had been properly surprised! And this happiness...he had forgotten what it was to be truly happy. He didn't have to try to think what his soul would feel, because his soul was here and he was feeling all these things that had been only words for so many years.

When Al heard the sound of footsteps, he turned around and saw Ed limping towards him, on two legs made of flesh and blood. Al was filled with confusion. How could he have regained his soul, and Ed regained his body as well? But then Ed dropped onto his knees, and Al discovered that he didn't care any more.

Al met Ed's golden eyes, and a torrent of emotions such as he had never felt assaulted him. He was happy, confused, angry, afraid, sorry, excited; he wanted to laugh, scream, cry...but most of all, those golden eyes made his insides burn with something he had not felt for five long years. It choked him, it consumed him; it was exhilarating yet so painful. He felt as though someone was squeezing his chest very tight, and an enormous painful lump was growing in his throat.

Struggling against all these emotions, Al parted his lips and croaked out, "Brother..."

It was like the sun breaking over the horizon. Ed's face split in the widest smile Al had ever seen, and Al found his own lips turning upwards in a smile as well. Ed threw his arms around Al, and Al hugged him back. The pain that had been building up higher and higher in his chest and throat seemed to explode, and an enormous sob broke out of his throat.

Before Al even had time to realize what was happening, he found himself sobbing as if his heart would break, his face buried in his brother's coat, his arms wrapped around Ed as tightly as possible. He said one word, over and over, as a feeble attempt to make up for all those times he hadn't said that word. "Brother," he sobbed. "Brother, Brother, Brother...."

Ed was crying as well, rocking them back and forth a little and clutching him tight as if afraid he might disappear at any moment.

Gradually, Al's tears subsided into shuddering breaths, and he rested his head on Ed's shoulder. The pain had subsided somewhat, but emotions still filled him, and he marveled at this. How was it possible to feel so many things at once? _I know how it's possible,_ Al thought with a smile. _My brother._ "I love you, Brother."

Ed's grip tightened around him, and he seemed to have trouble breathing for a moment or two. Al knew that was the one thing his brother had been longing to hear, the one thing Al could never have said without his soul.

After a while, Ed took a great shuddering breath and began to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. Al disentangled himself from his brother and wiped his own eyes, something he hadn't had to do for five years. Then he helped Ed stand, and turned for the first time to look at the rest of the room.

Everyone was still there. Everyone either stood or sat, watching them. Al felt embarrassed that they had had such a large audience at his reunion with his brother, but his happiness outweighed that by far.

"Wait," Ed said, sounding like he had a head cold. He took a step forward, wobbled, and nearly fell. Al rushed forward and grabbed his arm to support him. Together, they wobbled over to Mustang, who was wearing a most peculiar expression – almost as if he was trying hard not to cry himself. "You used the Stone on us, didn't you?" Ed demanded, pointing an accusing finger.

Mustang smirked. "I can't stand tragic heroes, though you played the part very nicely, Full Metal. Besides," he added, glancing around at all the others, "it took us about five seconds after you left to realize the world would be a darker place without you two."

"But...But what about Havoc?" Ed protested. "And Ling? And Ran Fan? And Mei?"

"There are some things we can do without," Ling said with a grin, "but there are some things we _can't._"

As everyone else murmured their agreement, Al felt tears welling up in his eyes again. "You're all so kind!" he burst out, and everyone stared at him. "You gave up all your dreams for us.... Thank you so much!" Breaking away from Ed, he went to the nearest person – who happened to be Mustang – and gave him a big hug. When Al broke away, he saw a stunned expression on Mustang's face. Al grinned; he knew this must be strange to someone who had only known him as the unresponsive, emotionless Alphonse Elric.

But one or two people remembered him as he had once been. Winry rushed forward and hugged him tightly, crying for joy. His old master kissed him on the top of his head, then held him close. And as soon as they broke apart, Al found himself rushing to all the others, hugging them or wringing their hands and thanking them over and over again. They were laughing, but he didn't care. He loved them all, and finally he was able to show them this after five years.

Alphonse Elric would look back on that day as the best day of his life.


End file.
